


Sentence Prompts Collection

by quantumoddity



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Sorry this is a little all over the place, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 19:41:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8909491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumoddity/pseuds/quantumoddity
Summary: Okay so I write a lot of ficlets on tumblr, based off prompts that people send me and I got asked if I could collate them on this site so they'd be easier to find. So here it is, a collection of short stories, concerning Alexander Hamilton and Eliza Schuyler-Hamilton, Philip Hamilton and Theodosia Burr Jr. 
So yes, its a bit of a mix of angst and fluff, of different parts of their relationships. Hope you find something you enjoy!





	1. 34. ‘If you keep looking at me like that, we aren’t going to make it to a bed.”

Alexander couldn’t stop smiling and it definitely wasn’t because of the two thousand-word essay he was only three quarters of the way through. It probably had more to do with the fact that his girlfriend had her head in his lap, her body sprawled out over three different chairs arranged into a make shift bed.

“Eliza,” he said pointedly, after she gave another loud groan that was clearly meant to get in attention, “You can just go back to your room you know, I can meet you there.”

She pulled a face, though he obviously couldn’t see because her head was under the table he was working on.

“Or you could just call it a day after three hours worth of work, like any normal human being would,” she replied.

“Come on hon, you’ve been going out with me long enough to know that what you just said was dumb,” Alex smirked, one of his hands still scribbling away while the other moved under the table to stroke her hair.

Despite what he’d said, he really didn’t want her to go. He was quickly learning that everything in his life became so much easier when Eliza was part of it. The hours he usually spent in the college library felt so much more fun when his girlfriend was sat across from him, humming musical theatre songs as she worked, or distracting him once her own work was finished. There’d been three paper airplanes thrown at his head since Eliza had finished her report, a brief battle had broken out ending in Alex’s defeat (he blamed it on the fact that the paper in his notebook was thinner and less aerodynamic. Eliza had rolled her eyes and snorted but she let him believe whatever he wanted to believe). She’d also passed him a few notes, like they usually did. A few had been suitably romantic, telling him his hair looked nice today or that that jumper looked great on him. A few of them had just said ‘I’m bored” and three of them were just drawings of birds but they all made him snigger with laugher and grin at her.

Eliza didn’t really want to go either, despite her playful whining. With finals creeping up on them, their time together had felt scarce recently and she found herself more than happy to just sit here with him while he worked, needing nothing more than the comforting warmth of his hand on her head and the low mutter of his voice as he spoke the words he was writing out loud, just like he always did.

“I love you,” Eliza said quietly, out of the blue, surprising herself a little.

Alex felt his heartbeat increase and his smile grew even wider if that was at all possible, “I love you too, babe.”

They sank back into companionable quiet for a while before Alex gave a frustrated grunt.

“Whassup?” Eliza mumbled, her eyes still closed.

“I hate writing conclusions,” he growled, irritated, “I never know how to word them.”

Eliza’s hand appeared over the edge of the table, “Give it here.”

Alex handed his notebook over willingly, tapping his pencil against his temple while he waited.

“Dude, you’re handwriting is a mess,” she said matter of factly.

“Give me a break, it’s late. I’m tired,” he smiled, acting wounded.

After a while, Eliza scrambled into a sitting position, taking the pencil from behind her ear and making a few notes of her own.

“Okay, this is good. I’ve put a few bullet points down for stuff for the conclusion and I’d definitely include that point you made up here about the impact of increased taxation on geopolitical relationships between America and England, its really well worded but I don’t think you need- why are you looking at me like that?”

Alex had a look in his eyes like he wanted to tear her clothes off right there in the middle of the library, “Is it bad that you dissecting my economic history essay is kind of really turning me on?”

Eliza blushed a little but a smile lit up her face beautifully, “No its fine, it just shows what a dork you are. But you’re my dork.”

She leaned over and planted a swift kiss on his nose. His hand slipped down to her waist, his teeth closing around his bottom lip.

“Um, look, this essay can wait, I’ve still got two days to finish it. Like you said, it’s late. How about we head back to yours and, y’know, go to bed?” he asked, his voice reduced to a low growl.

Eliza’s fingertips traced their way across his jaw, enjoying the rough feel of his beard, “If you keep looking at me like that, we won’t make it to a bed.”

She’d meant in as a joke but Alex looked like he’d just had an idea.

“Okay, this might sound a little crazy but, if you really mean that…the bathrooms in this place lock, you know?” he said a little hopefully.

Eliza blinked, “Yes. Let’s do it.”

Fortunately, it was so late that the library was empty enough for Eliza to sneak Alex into the ladies room without anyone seeing. By the time he’d spun around after locking the door, Eliza was perched on the bank of sinks, beckoning him forward with a look in her eyes that made his mouth dry. He obeyed without hesitation, kissing her while her legs locked around his hips.

He pulled away while he still had enough will power to do so, “You’re the best girlfriend ever, you know that?”

Eliza raised an eyebrow, “Then why’d you stop?”

They both laughed helplessly, before sinking back into their heated kiss.

A very productive study session, Alex thought with a smile.


	2. 98. “I can’t watch you with anyone else. It’s tearing me apart.”

One thing that Eliza hadn’t anticipated about life after your husband cheated on you and told the whole world about it was how difficult language became. She felt like fucking Schrodinger’s cat, trapped in semantic limbo between married and not, in a relationship and not, together and not and if she or anyone else looked too closely at the situation she would just collapse into nothingness.

So Eliza didn’t look too closely. She didn’t look up to see him at the other end of the breakfast table, ignored him when she came upon him in the hall, acted like he wasn’t there when she accidentally walked in on him brushing his teeth. She just didn’t think about how they lived in the same house but with a million miles between them.

She just moved through this mess her life had turned into, trying not to focus on the shadows moving in at the edges, the threat of decisions she didn’t want to make and facts she didn’t want to face, focusing instead on the few good things left to her. Her children. Her job.

Her sisters, particularly Angelica, who Eliza relied on heavily these days, more than she ever had before. Angelica didn’t try to act like everything was normal, the way some people at work did. She didn’t treat Eliza like she was made of glass the way the other mothers at school did, the ones who used to chat companionably with her but now looked at her with pity, or worse, judgment. As if the fact that her husband had cheated was Eliza’s fault, like they were looking for the aspect of her that had driven him away.

Angelica just held her when she needed to cry, listened to her when she needed to talk and, on this occasion, invited her to a party when she needed to get completely wasted, just for one night.

Eliza had been hesitant at first but she trusted her sister and now she was glad she had. Leaning against the kitchen counter in an apartment that looked like it had been lifted into being straight from the page of a high-end magazine, Eliza drank whisky lemonades until her vision turned fuzzy and let the buzz of innocuous New York rich people chatter drown everything out for a night. It was actually quite nice. Angelica had been right, as usual.

Where was her sister, her brain wondered in a vague, disconnected sort of way. Probably off talking to the second most interesting person at the party (Angelica herself would of course be the first). Eliza went off to find her.

Perhaps because she was tired, perhaps because she was drunk, perhaps because the place was crammed but, for whatever reason, Eliza barely got five steps before she bumped into someone.

“Oh, sorry,” she mumbled, pulling away from the man she’d just fell against.

“Not at all,” she didn’t recognize the man’s voice or face, with an expression that had flickered from surprise to vaguely heated amusement very quickly as his eyes slowly ran up and down the length of her.

“And what might your name be?” his voice was low, with a tone in his voice that bordered on the inappropriate.

Eliza blinked. Was he joking? Surely there was no one left in the whole fucking city that didn’t know who she was, who hadn’t seen her picture on the news or in any number of papers. So he was either being polite or he didn’t care. That expression he was wearing suggested the latter. He looked like the kind of man who didn’t care about a lot of things. Like whether the woman he was flirting with was married or not.

Eliza realized his eyes were looking down at her hands, one of which he was holding in his own after he’d stopped her fall. She’d taken her ring off of course, after everything, but surely he could see the shadow?

Half of Eliza wanted to turn and run, to go find her sister and ask her to take her back to her apartment so she could drunk-cry herself to sleep on Angelica’s couch. The other half wanted to…wanted to what?

The stranger raised his eyebrows and Eliza realized she still hadn’t answered his question. What was the answer, though?

Eliza opened her mouth, shifted her weight, turned a little, ready to answer.

But that was when she saw him, over near the doorway.

Alexander. Standing there with a beer in his hand, the few people around him having a conversation he clearly wasn’t listening to because his dark eyes were fixed on her, her with her hand in the man’s, with a look in them like she’d slapped him.

Eliza’s legs felt weak. Why was he here? Why was she here?

She turned tail and walked quickly, her breath suddenly heavy, her chest suddenly heaving. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Mercifully, the apartment’s balcony was empty and once the sliding door shut behind her, the noise was reduced to a muffle. Eliza gripped the railing, her eyes squeezed tightly shut to keep in the tears building behind them.

There was a soft swish and click as someone came out and joined her out in the cold night air. Angelica? The stranger?

No, it was Alex. Because of course it was.

His expression was dark, sad and hurt and defeated. She couldn’t keep her eyes up for long.

“Why are you here, Alex?” Eliza sighed, folding her arms across her chest, holding herself defensively.

“I…Aaron thought it would be good if I…” Alex began, the words faltering and dying on his lips.

Eliza understood. He was here for the same reason she was; to forget everything for one night.

“So is this how it is now?” Alex murmured, his voice shaky.

Eliza bit her lip, “What do you mean?”

Alex looked awful, the shadows under his eyes deeper than they’d ever been, like he had two black eyes, his skin pale like he was sick, his hair limp. Despite everything, Eliza felt a twist of sympathy. She knew how he felt.

“I can’t watch you with anyone else, Eliza. It’s tearing me apart.”

She could see in his face that he knew the mistake he’d made in saying that. All her sympathy evaporated, replaced by fury.

“How fucking dare you, Alex? How fucking dare you say that to me after what you did,” she hissed, her voice like ice.

“Eliza, I-I’m sorry…” he stammered, starting to move towards her but thinking better of it, hands about to reach for her, to comfort but stopping dead in the air.

Eliza shook her head furiously, her whole body shaking as she marched past him, head down, back into the building. She heard a broken sob behind her as the door shut but she didn’t look back.

Fortunately, the next person she ran into was Angelica who took one look at her sister’s pale face, awash with tears and mascara smudges and folded her into a hug without another word.

Trying to forget had been a mistake. There were somethings you just couldn’t do that with.


	3. 65. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Usually when Alexander finally let himself sleep, it took a volume roughly equivalent to a commercial jet taking off to wake him. So when Eliza jerked awake around one in the morning, as she was doing quite frequently now she was pregnant, it took her around five minutes to realise that Alex wasn’t in bed beside her. She bolted upright, her sleep-addled mind immediately snapping into panic before she realised he was standing by her window, watching the rain. The rivulets, illuminated by the sickly orange streetlight from outside, reflected eerily on his face, making it seem like…

No, he was. He was crying silently.

“Alex?” she croaked, her voice thick with sleep and confusion.

He jumped, not having realised she was watching him. He hurriedly wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, asking, “Can’t sleep again, babe?” attempting in vain to divert her attention.

“What’s the matter?”

There was a long pause as Alex’s mouth worked, his mind trying to find some blasé excuse to blow her off, but it was no use. He took a shaky breath and his face crumpled before her eyes, his shoulders trembling as he broke down, helplessly.

He sat heavily on the bed and Eliza didn’t waste an instant, pulling him towards her, holding him as tightly as she dared, the man who was going to be her husband in just two weeks.

“I’m so scared, Eliza,” he sobbed into her shoulder, his fingers digging into her bare back, clinging to her like she was his one point of stability in the midst of a hurricane.

“It’s okay, Alexander. It’s okay,” she whispered shakily. His panic attacks weren’t new, his emotions ran close to the surface all the time, but she couldn’t deny how scary it was to see him like this. She hated that all she could do was hold him until it passed, stroking his hair and telling him that everything was okay when it so obviously wasn’t. 

“It’s not. It’s not. Oh fuck, what am I going to do?”

“Alex, please, just-just take some deep breathes, okay? Just try and slow down a minute.”

It was a while before his breath stopped hitching, before his eyes stopped streaming enough for him to talk coherently. When he finally managed, his voice was mournful, heavy with that sadness she knew he carried around but rarely let himself show.

“How the hell am I supposed to be a father? After what my dad did to my mum and me… Eliza, I hated him for so long, I still do…what if-what if our…if my…God, I couldn’t stand it if they hated me the way I hate him. But how am I supposed to do any different? Oh fuck.”

Eliza closed her eyes. She wanted to cry but she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She put her hands under Alex’s chin and forced him to look her in the eyes.

“Alex. Listen to me please…I understand why you’re scared. But you. Are. Not. Your. Father. You hear me? You can make your own decisions. Jesus, Alex, the fact that you’re this cut up about it proves just how much you care about our baby. That love is all you need to be a good father. Understand?”

Alex was crying again but he managed a nod. She held him for a long time, letting him cry himself out into her chest. By the time he was done, it was nearly three in the morning and his eyes were raw and aching.

“Sorry,” he muttered, pulling away and struggling to meet her eyes, embarrassed. 

“Alex,” Eliza admonished him gently, “You don’t need to apologise. I just…I just wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I know you’re going to be an amazing father.”

He gave her a small smile. She could have kissed him.

“Then I guess I’ve got a chance,” he sighed.


	4. 51. “What the hell are you wearing?”

Alex couldn’t lie, Angelica and Peggy had forewarned him that Eliza took every holiday very seriously but he hadn’t really been expecting this. 

It all started when he walked into their apartment, not really paying attention, only to suddenly have a cardboard bat in his face. 

“What the fuck?” he yelped, jumping backwards and slamming into the door that had shut behind him. 

“Language!” he heard his wife’s voice call from the kitchen, “Five dollars in the swear jar, mister!” 

“I missed you too, my darling wife, my day was fine, thanks for asking,” Alex grumbled, still confused, ducking under the decoration that had assaulted him and rummaging in his pocket. 

Why was there a full goddamn flock of bats hanging from the hallway ceiling? Why were there fake cobwebs hanging from the walls? Why was there a skeleton draped on the living room door?

Angelica and Peggy’s warning echoed in his mind. “Oh Jesus,” he muttered. 

It looked like someone had cleaned out the Halloween aisle of a dollar store and scattered everything around his apartment. As Alex stuffed the required amount in the already half-full jar on the bookcase, he frowned suspiciously at the glittery orange tinsel (who the hell made Halloween tinsel? Why was that even a thing?) and the bowls of candy wrapped in colours that made them look acidic and the pumpkin shaped lights. 

Alex wasn’t really a Halloween person, especially now he wasn’t a college student and, as such, it was no longer an excuse to get plastered. He’d been thinking maybe he and Eliza would spend the evening of the 31st on the couch, maybe watch a scary movie to keep the theme. Apparently not. 

“Hey honey,” Eliza grinned at him as he walked in the kitchen. In her arms, baby Philip squirmed, beaming and reaching out his hands to his father. 

Even considering, the sight of his wife with flour on her nose, her eyes brightened just by seeing him, and his little son, his pudgy little hands opening and closing in an eager plea for his dad to hold him, lifted his mood instantaneously. 

Alex took Philip in his arms, kissing his head of black curls and leaning forward to kiss Eliza. His eyes fell down to the cookies she was icing. Pumpkin cookies. Of course. 

“So, um, the decorations are…interesting?” he tried, winding an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. 

“Sorry,” Eliza allowed, not really looking sorry at all, “I was going to wait for you to get home but Peggy was round today and she’s really good at that kind of thing.”

“Ah, no, that’s okay,” Alex said, mildly distracted as his son had seized his tie and seemed determined, for some reason, to put it in his father’s mouth, “It’s just, Halloween’s not until Sunday, is it?”

Eliza blinked at him, like he’d said something dumb, “Yeah but the party’s on Friday.” 

“Oh. Right. Yeah.” He’d forgotten sleepily agreeing to hosting a party last week. 

Eliza shook her head at the less than excited tone to his voice, kissing him on the jaw, drawing a reluctant smile, “I know, babe. But trust me, after this, you’ll love Halloween. Promise.”

-

“What the hell are you wearing?” Eliza demanded, folding her arms and looking less than impressed. 

Alex looked down at himself, wondering what part was offending her, “My costume.”

“Oh really? And what are you supposed to be exactly?”

“Uh…a lawyer. On his day off.”

“That’s not even vaguely Halloween-y.”

“Fine…a ghost lawyer?” 

Eliza frowned at her husband, wearing the same sweatpants and jumper he’d be wearing on any other Friday night, “Look, the party’s staring in a half hour, can you just go put on the costume I made for you?” 

Alex wrinkled his nose, “Elizaaaaa.”

“Come on! Otherwise you won’t match me and Philip! Please? Pretty please?”

Alex took one look at his wife’s puppy dog eyes and saw nothing but defeat on the horizon. He groaned and disappeared back into their bedroom.

As much as he whinged, he had to admit, they all looked pretty cute with Eliza as Mary Poppins, him as Bert and Philip as a penguin waiter. And he did have to admit, the food Eliza made was really good. And the decorations did look nice. And his friend’s costumes were funny.

Once he stopped being a baby and digging his heels in, as the night progressed, he actually found himself having fun. There may have even been a slightly tipsy rendition of Jolly Holiday at some point during the evening.

Eliza caught his arm sometime around ten, “Having fun?” she shouted over the music, her eyes shining knowingly.

“No. Hate it,” her husband mumbled through a mouthful of pumpkin cookie. 

She raised an eyebrow, grinning triumphantly, “Happy Halloween, Alex.”


	5. 34. “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to a bed.”

Of course Eliza Hamilton was the kind of twenty five year old who still shook her husband awake at two in the morning to excitedly tell him that it was snowing. She looked so happy, her dark eyes so bright as she pointed to the window, to the white flecks drifting like falling stars against the dark sky, Alex couldn’t even be annoyed. 

Before they knew it, Alex was pulling a coat over his pyjamas, winding one of the (many, many) scarves Eliza had made for him around his neck and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with the heel of his hand while she made hot chocolate in the kitchen. The two of them huddled against each other and did one of their regular break ins onto the fire escape, sitting together in the dark and watching the snow. 

Alex was shivering and there were goosebumps on his bare legs but, with Eliza’s head on his shoulder, her delighted, excited voice telling him all about how snow formed in the clouds, there was no way he was moving. 

“Do you remember when it snowed when we were in college?” Eliza smiled up at him.

Alex raised his eyebrows at the memory, reaching over and smudging off the whipped cream that had got stuck to the end of his wife’s nose, “How could I forget? You don’t forget a thing like getting a snowball in the face from Hercules Mulligan the second you step out your front door.”

Eliza snorted with laugher, “Dude, you folded like a lawn chair.”

“Of course I did!” he said, a little incredulously, “I’d never seen snow in my life, Eliza, and first thing I knew this ball of frozen water was hurtling towards my face! I was at an unfair disadvantage.”

“I’d be flattered if I was you, John, Herc and Laff got up at half four simply for the privilege of getting you in the face with a snowball,” she smirked. 

“Oh yeah,” Alex pulled a face, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “Really warms my heart.”

“We won in the end though,” Eliza pointed out.

“Yeah, you and Burr really saved my ass,” he allowed, turning to kiss her forehead, making her giggle.

“You’re welcome.”

The sat for a while, enjoying the quiet as the blanket of snow built up, muffling the usual clamour of New York city. Eliza went to the edge and caught snowflakes on her tongue, making Alex laugh. 

“My mouth’s all cold now,” she admitted, carefully making her way back over to him.

“Oh really?” Alex was suddenly looking at her with heat in his eyes, “Let me help you with that.”

He reached out and pulled her onto his lap, his lips meeting her’s, soft but urgent. Eliza responded eagerly, putting her knees on either side of his hips, her arms around his shoulders, wanting to be as close to him as physically possible. They opened up to each other willingly, their breath misting in the night air as the gasped for breath and dived under again. At first, they could taste the sweet, chocolate taste on each other’s tongues but soon the cold left them numb. 

“Maybe we should go inside,” Eliza murmured after a while, panting a little, her dark eyes full of excitement, “Maybe…get back in bed?”

Alex’s smile was devilishly crooked, “If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it to bed.”

Eliza laughed, low in her throat, “Works for me.”

Alex’s prediction was correct, they only made it as far as the living room sofa. Springs creaked under them as they cast off their clothes, hungry for each other. There was a moment where, as desperate as he was, Alex stopped and simply drank in the sight of his Eliza, illuminated only by the soft light from outside, the shadows of the falling snow playing across her pale skin. 

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with awe, his hands circling across her hips. 

Eliza flushed a little and grinned, pouncing on him with even more hunger than before, pinning his arms above his head. In the warmth, the feeling gradually returned to her extremities and the first thing her tongue tasted was him, the first thing her hands felt was his skin, like he was everything, like he was all she’d ever known. It was perfect. 

They made love on the sofa twice, before falling asleep where they were, exhausted but so unbelievably happy, too tired to grab anything more substantial that Alex’s coat as a blanket.

Usually it was Alex who cried after sex, being the emotional mess that he was (but insisted he wasn’t) but this time it was Eliza who left sparkling droplets of salt in the dark hair on his chest as she pillowed her head on it, the soft rhythm of his sleeping breaths rocking her.. She cried with both happiness and fright, so delighted that she had something this perfect and so scared that it would ever be taken from her.


	6. 54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”

It was especially difficult, Philip thought, when you’d known someone your entire life. It complicated things.

Or maybe it was just that Theodora Burr was a complicated person.

-

Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr would balk if anyone ever suggested that they were good friends. You’d think that the fact that their careers had run in parallel for years, the fact that their wives had been best friends and talked all the time, the fact that their kids had played with each other for as long as any of them could remember would make it obvious. But apparently not. They were co workers at most, they’d allow, while their families rolled their eyes knowingly behind their backs. 

But however indeterminate the two stubborn men’s relationship was, they couldn’t deny that their eldest kids were best friends. 

Philip and Theo (that was her preferred nickname, one time when they were six Philip had went through a phase of calling her Theodosia to irritate her but it ended quickly when she turned to him and called him Phil in retaliation) had grown up together. They’d gone from playing elaborate, imaginative games in the park as toddlers while their fathers sat on a bench and argued to slyly passing notes in class at middle school to studying for entrance exams across from each other at the Burr’s kitchen table (it was quieter and neater than at the Hamilton’s). 

Theo was the first person Philip called when he got a new baby brother or sister, sending her a flurry of photos. Phillip was the first person Theo called when her mom first got sick. It was his arms she fell into sobbing when he turned up on her doorstep at three in the morning on the night her mom passed away. They were inseparable. 

It confused some people, to see the loud, brash ball of buzzing energy that was Philip and the calm, reserved Theo sitting together at lunch every day. But they just seemed to fall together so neatly. She was the only person he let himself open up to. He was the only person she let herself be silly with. Despite their conflicting surnames, it just seemed to work. 

They’d been watching a film one night in Philip’s room, piled on each other like puppies, not really paying attention to the screen, just hanging out. Theo had been teasing him about his hair, suggesting that he tie it back like his dad did or maybe a braid would look nice or, oh, maybe pigtails! A wrestling match had quickly followed with Theo brandishing a hairbrush like a sword and Philip desperately fending her off with his long, gangly legs. She’d had him pinned on the bed, her dark face illuminated by that purely electric smile she had, the daft way she wrinkled her nose, those little creases in the corner of her bright eyes…Why had he never noticed those before?

That was when things got complicated.

-

Theo noticed something was wrong straight away. Philip hardly looked at her when they met each other at their usual street corner. He didn’t even speak, leaving the conversation to his sister Angie, which was usually a sign he was deathly ill. It was the same story at lunch; he wouldn’t meet her eyes or even raise his head to loom at her. Theo pressed him and got only one word answers. When she shot a look at Angie, Philip’s sister merely shrugged. That evening, there were none of the usual texts or messages from her friend, detailing the stupid things his family did. They didn’t trade funny pictures of their dads, falling asleep at the dinner table or at their work desks. 

Something was definitely wrong. 

Theo let this continue for three whole days, telling herself that Philip was just in a mood, he’d come to her when he was ready. But then, when her call was ignored yet again, her patience evaporated. 

Philip jumped a mile when Theo’s knuckles rapped against his window. He pulled his headphones out, staring at her incredulously. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, after he’d flung the window open. 

“What do you mean what the hell am I doing?” Theo snapped, nearly losing her balance as she clung to the tree branch, she was so surprised, “Are you going to let me in?”

He did, though he didn’t look happy about it. 

“Okay,” Theo began, throwing herself down on his bed, “Something’s wrong and I’m fucking sick of waiting for you to shape up and tell me what it is. So I’m asking you. What did I do?”

Philip’s dark brown eyes seem determined to look at anything but her. He shifted awkwardly, grabbing his arm, fidgeting like he was being interrogated. 

“Look, I- I mean, I didn’t want to…you haven’t done anything…not really but I…um…” he stammered.

Philip Hamilton was speechless. The world was surely ending. 

Theo wasn’t angry any more. Now she was getting scared. 

“Philip? Just tell me what the matter is? Why have you suddenly decided that you hate me?” she asked quietly. 

Philip looked horrorstruck, “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you…that’s kind of the problem.”

“What? You’re not making any sense,” Theo said, frustrating driving up the pitch of her voice. 

There was a long moment of silence. Philip finally looked at her, looked right at her, his dark eyes staring straight into her’s. 

“Philip?” Theo murmured.

Before she knew what was going on, he’s crossed the room, sat next to her and pulled her towards him, his lips crashing into her’s. The kiss was sudden, hot. 

It was a long, long time before they broke away. Only the need for oxygen pulled them apart. They both looked like they wanted to say something but neither of them knew what that something was.

“Oh no,” Theo breathed. 

“Yeah,” Philip agreed, his mouth twisting, “Tell me about it.”


	7. 53. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

“Alex, are you actually being serious right now?” Eliza hissed in disbelief. 

Even with her hanging out of her dorm room window and her idiot boyfriend all the way on the ground, she could see the sheen on his eyes and the edge to his goofy grin. He was clearly drunk, which would explain why he’d rang her at four in the morning, telling her to come to the window, and promptly asking if she wanted to go get some ice cream. 

Instead of actually answering her question he laughed and spread his arms in an overly dramatic pose, slurring a little but managing a suitably thespian boom in his voice as he declared, “But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and…uh, Eliza is the sun? It is my lady, oh, it is my love!”

Eliza tried not to show how impressed she was that, even with what looked like half a litre of whiskey in his system, Alex could still recite a good chunk of the balcony scene. She’d lent him her copy of Romeo and Juliet last week and he’d been quoting it at her ever since, fancying himself quite the romantic.

“I don’t think Juliet was wearing Sesame Street pyjamas in the original text but okay,” Eliza pointed out, trying not to blush, trying to maintain her annoyance at being woken up. 

Alex grinned, triumphant, “But seriously, want to go get some ice cream? We can go to your favourite place.”

Eliza raised her eyebrows, “Alex, do you know what time it is? Its fucking four in the morning, dude.”

“Oh. Really?” He looked like he was so drunk, the very concept of time itself confused him, “Huh. Well, its a twenty four hour diner so doesn’t matter.” 

He amazed her sometimes, he really did, “Look, you need to get those clothes off and get in bed Alexander.” 

His face lit up, “Okay!”

“No, no, not like that,” she groaned, realising her poor choice of words, “You need sleep.”

Alex looked a little bashful, his voice suddenly sincere “Sorry, I just…I just felt like I really needed to see you. Like I was going to go nuts if I didn’t see you. Is that weird?”

God damn it. Either he was really persuasive or she was getting soft. What the hell, she was awake now anyway and she was kind of hungry, now she thought about it.

“Ice cream sounds nice,” Eliza admitted, “Give me ten minutes to get changed?”

Alex looked like she’d just made him the happiest guy in the face of the earth.

“Need a hand?” he asked and, honest to God, he took hold of the drainpipe that ran up the side of her building like he was fully prepared to scale the wall up to her window.

“Alex, no! You’ll break your goddamn neck!” Eliza yelped in horror, “Just wait ten minutes!”

Idiot, she thought as she turned away from the window and started to wriggle out of her pyjamas. Who crawls through someone’s window at four am to go for ice cream?!

Alexander Hamilton, apparently. 

-

The waitress was clearly a stalwart professional; her expression barely flickered when the two college students, one obviously drunk, the other clearly having woken up no more than twenty minutes ago, crashed into her diner and ordered two sundaes. 

As she watched Alex miss his mouth with the spoon several times, nearly getting himself in the eye once, Eliza considered how this was one of the stranger dates she’d ever been on. But it was one of the best, she had to admit. How weirdly lucky she felt to have someone in her life who did things like this with her and made it seem completely reasonable. 

The two of them talked and laughed for hours, until the sun came up. Alex looked at Eliza through his now bleary eyes, smiling.

“What?” she demanded, squirming a little under his loving gaze.

“Oh bright angel,” he recited, reaching over and brushing her hair away from her face. Another quote. 

She snorted, leaning into his shoulder “You’re a dork, Alex. But I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmured against her hair.


	8. 59. “Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.”

“Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.”

Eliza heard those words, heard them in Alex’s broken voice, heavy with tears, in her head yet again. She sighed despairingly, the noise echoing around the empty kitchen. 

It was rare that Alex dared speak to her these days, after everything that had happened, after what he’d done to her. Just the sound of his voice made her wince sometimes and he knew it. What he didn’t know was every time Eliza heard him speak, she was imagining that low, gentle, rough voice, the voice she’d been so certain she could trust, speaking words to that other girl. That poor girl. That was why she flinched instinctively at the sound.

But, for whatever reason, last night he’d taken the risk and those words had broken free of him as he’d stood in the doorway, tears building in his eyes as he looked at his wife’s face, twisted in lines of sadness that he’d put there. 

“You don’t have to answer now, Eliza, but please, I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live in fucking purgatory for the rest of our lives. Tell me to go and I will, but if you ask me to stay I’ll never leave you again.”

Then he’d bolted, to spend another sleepless night on the couch in his office, tossing and turning and cursing himself for not being able to keep his mouth shut. Eliza had endured the vast emptiness of their bed, her mind similarly unable to rest, that one phrase throbbing in her mind.

Just like it was now. Eliza took a wavering breath and swallowed hard. She didn’t want this choice. 

She jumped as her phone burst into life. She frowned at the number she didn’t recognise. Before she could even say hello, there was a sad, smooth voice in her ear.

“Mrs Hamilton? We need you to come to the hospital immediately. Theres been an incident involving your son, Philip Hamilton. He’s been shot in-”

Eliza stopped hearing anything after that. 

-

The funeral was difficult. Eliza moved through it in a daze, not really hearing, not really seeing was was going on around her, only aware of the pain in her chest and the tight hold of her older sister’s hand on her’s. 

She didn’t even notice when the room suddenly emptied and she was left alone with Alexander, not until she felt his eyes on her and heard his voice whisper her name with more sadness that she’d ever wanted to hear. 

Eliza turned and forced herself to look her husband in the eye. She saw her own expression perfectly mirrored on his face. Eliza realised that she had his answer. 

“Stay,” she murmured quietly, “Please, stay.”


	9. 78. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.” & 81. “I need you to leave.”

When Eliza had first found out what her husband had done, when everything she’d ever depended on had first been ripped out from under her, she’d thought she wouldn’t be able to keep going. How could she, when the person she’d trusted most had taken everything she’d ever given him and ruined it?

But, in the months that followed, she surprised herself. With the scent of paper smoke thick in her nose, with ash staining her fingertips and the memories of years of love and trust reduced to black snow hanging listlessly in the air, Eliza had made a decision. No one, especially not Alex, had any right to her heart or her words. She wasn’t going to break. She wasn’t going to shut down.

So Eliza had taken a deep breath and went back home after a few days sleeping on Angelica’s sofa. Her kids flew down the stairs to meet her with shouts of joy, surrounding her with warmth and giving her the first reason to smile she’d had in what felt like a very long time. She’d affectionately squeezed the shoulders of Philip, Angie, Alex Jr, the ones old enough to understand what was going on, giving a small shake of her head to answer their worried looks. They seemed to relax a little but their eyes stayed wary, especially when their father appeared in the doorway. 

Eliza forced herself to look Alex in the eyes. He looked awful, exhausted and ill, as if he’d spent every moment since their argument crying. But that hadn’t stopped him from publishing a whole, sorry account of everything he’d done, as if that was the noble thing to do in this situation. Eliza felt every scrap of sympathy that had involuntarily flared to life inside her at his obvious distress die instantly. There was a sour taste in her mouth. 

She’d have loved to put it off, to run and hide, but that wasn’t happening. But she still didn’t feel ready when she was finally left alone with him.

“Eliza,” his voice was so sad and anxious, reminding her of the anxious young man who’d always lie and pretend he was fine, the one she’d fallen in love with back in college. Back then, she’d promised herself that Alex would never feel so helpless again, not if she could help it. 

Despite all of the promises she’d made to herself and to Angelica, she felt herself start to cry over him again. 

“Eliza…do you want me to…I mean, should I…” Alex stammered, tripping over his words, like he was scared to say what he had to stay. 

She sat on their bed (her bed? His bed? Pronouns had become very difficult recently) and faced him where he stood in the doorway, just like he had been before, as if his whole life had become nothing but hovering awkwardly in spaces he’d once felt safe. 

“Do you want me to…to leave?” he finally got out, visibly shaking, “I mean, are we…are we through? Are we over?”

Eliza didn’t like that the choice was suddenly her’s. He was the one who’d ruined everything, why was it her who had to decide whether or not to pull the trigger?

“I don’t know,” she finally said in a low voice, “I don’t know. I can’t fucking do this now, Alex, can you please just leave me alone for now?”

After a last shuddering gasp, he bolted quickly before she could change her mind, just relieved that she hadn’t said no. He knew that a lack of an answer was the best he could hope for, for now. 

But what was going to happen after this, neither of them could say. 

-

She didn’t ask Alex to leave, she let him stay. After everything he’d done, the thought of living without him was too much for her, even when his presence was only a different kind of pain. That truth did not sit well with Eliza but she couldn’t deny it.

And even with Alex sleeping on the sofa in his office and the two of them barely talking to each other, with six months since he’d first told her about his affair it was difficult not to slide back into their old routines. You couldn’t exactly forget years and years of loving marriage, especially when they were both so sad and lonely and desperate for some kind of comfort. Even if neither of them would admit it, even with everything standing between them, both of them wanted what they’d had back. 

It was made especially complicated by their children. It was William’s birthday party and with the house full of music and the noise and laughter of their family and friends, it was so, so easy to forget. It was so easy to pretend that everything was fine, that their lives were as perfect as they once had been. Eliza even found herself laughing along with everyone else when their daughter Angie smeared frosting all over her dad’s face as a joke. He caught her eye as she did, the sound of her laughter like a song that had once been his favourite but he hadn’t heard in so long, he’d forgotten how much it had meant to him. 

As the party was winding down, without either of them meaning too, they found themselves alone again, the Hamilton children off playing one of William’s video games. They worked surprisingly well as a six-part team of kids. 

“They’re all going to crash hard in an hour,” Alex commented dryly, as they gathered up glasses and plates.

“Yeah, maybe we should just make a break for it,” Eliza joked in response, though she didn’t look at him.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said with a short laugh, reaching out for her as she walked past him, planting a swift kiss on her lips.

They both jumped back as if they’d been burnt, Alex as shocked by his actions as Eliza. He’d forgotten. He’d just forgotten. Once that action would have been as natural as breathing. Now, both of them felt like they’d been punched in the stomach. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, barely able to speak, “I’m so, so sorry Eliza, I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“No,” she replied, her voice hoarse and her eyes dark, “No, you shouldn’t have.”

“Eliza…”

“I need you to leave. Please Alex,” her voice was flat, quiet.

He left the kitchen promptly, hating himself, hating this, hating what their lives had become. Eliza stayed very, very still, like she was scared she’d snap if she moved. 

Both of them were crying silently.

They both wanted things to go back the way they’d been before. But they both knew that was never, ever going to happen.


	10. 70. “You’re so beautiful.”

People had been telling Eliza she was beautiful all her life, of course they had. She was bright, she was witty, she was kind and she had a supportive family. 

The problem was she’d never really believe anyone when they called her beautiful. It was like there was some disconnect in her brain that prevented her from hearing that word and applying it to herself without pulling a face. Her mother held her face in her hands and told her that her eyes were pretty but all Eliza saw was how they were so dark they were kind of like an insect’s. Peggy ran her fingers through her sister’s hair, calling it soft and beautiful but all Eliza saw were the stray hairs that always seemed to be sticking up. Angelica would kiss her nose and call her face cute but Eliza only noticed how her cheeks were kind of round.

Eliza tried not to think about it. She’d smile and nod when people called her beautiful but she would always feel a little empty when their words just didn’t feel true to her. 

When she eventually confessed this to Alexander Hamilton, one night after he’d caught the way her eyes flickered down when he called her gorgeous, his bottom jaw fell open. He then made it his mission in life to fix it.

He told her she was beautiful when they were about to leave for a party, when she was in a short, tight, sequinned dress with elaborate make up and hair so intricate Alex was afraid to touch it. He told her she was beautiful when she was wearing sweatpants and his hoodie, her eyes red and itchy because they’d been working in the library instead of actually sleeping, her hair in a loose bun that was quickly falling apart. He called her beautiful when they were walking through the park back to her dorm after a date, when the light of the sunset caught in her dark hair and he was thinking how her smile was the most lovely thing he’d ever seen. He told her she was beautiful after she’d just woken up, when her eyes were bleary and she’s just wiped drool off her face with the back of her hand.

Alex would write it in one of the many notes he’d leave for her in her textbooks, he’d text her it at least once during their long text conversations when class got boring, he’d yell it across a room full of their fiends, he’d whisper it in her ear when they were alone. He took every single opportunity to remind her of what he saw as simple fact.

And still, as happy as it made her, Eliza couldn’t really say truthfully that she believed him.

And then then she fell pregnant. From that first moment, when she’d handed him the positive test with shaking hands, too overwhelmed to actually say it out loud so he’d said it himself, the way he looked at her changed. He looked at her like she’d hung the stars in the sky, like he hadn’t known happiness until he’d felt their child move under her skin. 

Eliza understood how he felt. It took her breath away to imagine their child, the new life that they’d made together. But, even as Alex devoted even more of his time to detailing her beauty and how much he loved her and stealing kisses no matter how many people were looking, it was becoming harder and harder to believe him. Eliza found it hard to pick up her self esteem when most of her time was spent vomiting or crying for no reason and she felt like she was the size of a whale. 

“I’ll convince you one day,” Alex grinned with perfect confidence, as her head rested in his lap one evening only a few days before their baby was due to arrive.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Eliza pulled a face, reaching up and playing with his hair, “But you’re more than welcome to keep trying.”

-

Labour was long and hard and the only reason Eliza managed to fight her way through it was because of Alex, not letting go of her hand once, telling her repeatedly how wonderful and strong she was. But once it was finally over and she had her newborn son in her arms, Eliza realised how she’d be willing to go through so much worse for this kind of happiness. 

“Philip Hamilton,” she said again, enjoying the sound of it more than she could say, gently running her thumb over the soft black hair on her son’s head. 

Alex was crying and he was exhausted but he was smiling so hard his face looked like it was going to break. He held Eliza against him, his fingers intertwined with hers, not even feeling the bruises she’d left on them any more, unable to take his eyes off his son. 

“Hey,” he croaked, his voice cracking with emotion, “You’re so beautiful.”

Eliza craned her neck and looked at her husband, the father of her child, the man she loved more than anything. Then she looked at her son, with Alex’s long nose and her dark hair, so small and so perfect. And she’d made him. She’d done that.

The sense of pride was unusual but welcome. 

“Yeah,” she nodded in quiet, dazed agreement.

**Author's Note:**

> All these are from my tumblr, quantum-oddity, come say hi!


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